


Restraint

by Muriel_Perun



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Consensual Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:22:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muriel_Perun/pseuds/Muriel_Perun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak saves Bashir from a sticky situation, and immediately gets him into another one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restraint

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of kink that I posted on Usenet many years ago. Enjoy!

Garak walked quietly. It was a habit left over from the days when he feared for his life every hour of every day—not that he always felt fearful, but he knew that he was hated and took precautions accordingly. Come to think of it, those days might not be over yet. Being quietly aware of his surroundings had saved his skin more than once, so it was not surprising that he heard the men arguing before he came upon them.

Disturbances were rare in the Star Fleet part of the Habitat Ring, but here in the visitors’ section, they were not so rare. Garak had come across con artists or thieves arguing in these halls more than once. He’d seen the flash of a knife concealed when he made himself known; he’d heard screams and panicked footsteps that had induced him to take another route.

This time the voices were low, whispering but angry. Garak couldn’t make out the words yet. He slowed his pace as he eased around the curve. Valuable information was sometimes acquired this way, just by being quiet in the right place at the right time.

Suddenly he stopped, alert. The unfamiliar voice was slurred, sloppy, drunken, but he recognized the clipped tones of the other—Dr. Bashir. What was he doing in the visitors’ section in the middle of the night arguing with a stranger? Garak eased forward as far as he dared.

“No, damn it! Not here. I thought we were going to your quarters.” That was Bashir, exasperated, on the verge of talking too loudly.

The other voice was a mumble that ended in a laugh. Garak didn’t like the sound of that laugh. It was the laugh of someone who knew he was in control. What _had_ the good doctor gotten himself into?

Garak stepped forward briskly as if he had been walking along and had come upon them unawares. “Ah, gentlemen,” he said politely, “excuse me. I’m surprised to see you here.”

As he spoke, his eyes took in the strange picture before him.

A young man wearing the clothes of a trader or some other kind of ruffian was holding Dr. Bashir by the shoulders, trapping him in a work alcove between two doorways. Bashir’s hands were behind his back, perhaps holding something he needed to keep away from the other man. He had paled at the sight of Garak, and was moving his mouth soundlessly as if unable to decide whether to ask for help or not. Garak took matters into his own hands.

“Sir, I believe you are inconveniencing Dr. Bashir. I hate to impose upon your good graces, but would you mind stepping away from him?”

“Who the hell is he?” the stranger asked Bashir nervously. “A Cardassian? We’re at war with Cardassia? What’s he....”

“Michael Smythe, meet Mr. Garak,” Bashir said with a touch of irony directed at his own plight. His hands were still behind his back. Garak was starting to suspect that he had been shackled.

“Mr. Smythe,” he said courteously, stepping forward with one hand outstretched.

Smythe laughed at him. “Get out of here. We’re busy.”

Garak was upon him before Smythe realized he was moving. Rather than talk to the fellow, Garak tossed him down the corridor. Smythe landed hard on his back and skidded. Bashir didn’t say a word.

“I would advise you to conduct your business more discreetly on this station,” Garak said softly. “People are apt to interfere.”

Smythe scuttled away. “Damn you, Julian!” he said spitefully.

Garak took Bashir by the elbow. “Come to my quarters,” he whispered. “Someone might have heard him.”

They reached Garak’s door in a moment and were inside. Garak locked the door to his own encryption code, as he always did, before turning to look at Bashir. The doctor looked ill, embarrassed. He wouldn’t meet Garak’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “ hope you won’t ask me to explain how I got into that spot.”

“Please, sit down,” Garak invited, directing him to the couch.

“Uh, Garak? Can you help me take this off?” He turned to reveal a standard restraint binding his wrists together. It was of the kind favored by criminals, collapsible and easily concealed, swiftly put on, and as swiftly released, although not by the victim.

“In a moment, doctor. I’m so interested in hearing your story that I’m afraid I can’t wait.” He physically sat Bashir down. “Now, I m listening.” He sat in a chair facing Bashir.

“Oh, god, where do I begin?” Bashir shook his head. “I’m an idiot, Garak.”

“I never thought so until this moment,” Garak said ironically.

“You’re not making this easy, damn it. Look, he was someone I knew in the Academy. He dropped out during our first year, became a trader, got into a lot of shady things.”

“And you kept in touch with him? You astonish me.”

Bashir shifted uncomfortably. “No, not exactly. He looked me up after all this time. He suggested that we have a few drinks. Of course, he’d already had a few. Then he invited me to his quarters.”

Garak was sitting very still. “For a nightcap?”

“Not exactly.” Bashir was quiet for a moment. “Surely you can guess.”

“Tell me.”

When the doctor glanced up at Garak he was frightened by the steely gaze that met his. “If I tell you, will you remove these handcuffs? Garak inclined his head. “All right, then. At the Academy, he and I used to meet sometimes for...well, for sex, if you must know.” The doctor looked miserable. His mouth was tense and unhappy. “Tonight he suggested that we go to his quarters, but on the way he clapped this thing on me. He wanted me to...”

“...to let him take you in the corridor?” Garak finished.

Bashir nodded. “Now, please take these off.”

Garak was looking at him steadily, giving no sign that he had heard.

“Garak?”

“Dr. Bashir,” Garak began slowly, “has it ever occurred to you that I might like to do with you what you used to do with that young man?”

Bashir stared at him. “God, Garak,” he said finally, “I can’t say I’ve never thought of you that way, but I never thought that you were seriously interested in me. You’ve always just toyed with me, for years, about everything. I imagined that if I approached you that way, you’d laugh in my face.”

Garak said dangerously, “Quite the contrary.”

Bashir licked his lips. “I see.”

Garak rose. “I’m not sure you do.”

Bashir struggled to rise, looking apprehensive now. Garak took him under the arms and pulled him up. “You see, doctor, I’ve restrained my desires all these years, thinking that you’d never been with a man, that it wouldn’t be worth my while to try, and now I find out that you’ve been playing bondage games with a piece of trash like that.”

“Not for years, Garak. It was ages ago. I wouldn’t—”

Garak pulled Bashir close to him and spoke into his lips. “Be quiet, doctor.”

Garak held the young man close and kissed him, opening his mouth and exploring it ravenously with his tongue. When he let go, Bashir was breathing hard.

“Garak,” he gasped, “surely you don’t mean to take me by force?”

“Would it be by force indeed?” Garak mused. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

He kissed Bashir again, possessing his mouth as he crushed their bodies together. Breaking off the kiss abruptly, he looked again into the doctor’s eyes.

“Imagine that—the very correct Dr. Bashir, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in his uniform.” He ran his hands through Bashir’s hair, mussing it thoroughly. “What would your fellow officers think of you if they saw you here with me like this?” As he locked his mouth to Bashir’s, he felt Bashir relax against him, felt Bashir’s tongue tease his own. Garak ran his hands down to cup Bashir’s ass and pull the young man towards him. “You know, doctor,” he whispered confidentially, “I used to think—that is, I used to wish—that one day, without warning, you’d come to me here, in my quarters, desperate with lust, confessing that you’d always wanted me, but that your desire frightened you because you’d never been with a man before. You’d beg me to show you how it was done.... Well, isn’t it ironic how mistaken our ideas about others can turn out to be?”

He reached for Bashir’s mouth again, but Bashir pulled away.

“But, Garak, I never _have_ been with a man. Garak looked at him strangely. “I mean, not in _that_ sense. Smythe and I used to do other things. That’s why he played this dirty trick on me. He swore he’d have me tonight whether I wanted it or not.”

“And did you?”

“And did I...?”

“Did you want it?”

“Not with him, and certainly not in the corridor.”

Garak’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “But you were on your way to his quarters with him.”

“He was drunk. I just wanted to make sure that he got there. I was going to leave. Then, when he put the restraint on me, I tried to play along, just to get him to release me.”

“How interesting,” Garak said contentedly. “If he knew that he’d put you into my hands like this....” Looking into Bashir’s eyes, he decided to take a risk. “These bracelets you’re wearing, Dr. Bashir—they give me the right to do whatever I want with you. Would you like me to remove them? Or do you want to know how it’s done? Do you want me to show you?”

“For the moment, Garak," Bashir said softly, "I’m in your hands. If you take those bracelets off me, things are different. Then I have a decision to make. So what are you going to do with me?” His face was a bit flushed and he was breathing hard.

“I’m going to remove your clothing,” said Garak with a feral smile, “without releasing you. How do you suppose I’m going to do that?”

“You’re not going to cut it off me, are you?” Bashir asked, alarmed. “Garak, don’t cut my tunic. It was expensive.”

Garak examined the fabric. “And yet the material is cheap and the workmanship rather shoddy. You didn’t come to me for this one. You’ve been spending all your credits in the holosuites, Dr. Bashir.” Garak shook his head. “Come to my shop tomorrow. I’ll measure you for a splendid new tunic that will be my gift to you. And as for this piece of poor workmanship....”

Bashir heard the soft whine of the laser cutter. Garak must have had the tiny device in his pocket. He ran it up each of Bashir’s arms to the neck and then straight up the center of his chest. The tunic fell away in one piece. Garak began to plant firm kisses and soft bites all over Bashir’s chest and shoulders while Bashir made small sounds of excitement. His erection was obvious now, pushing through the silky fabric of his dress pants.

“I made these pants,” Garak said with a smile, “I’ll leave them intact.” Kneeling, Garak removed Bashir’s soft shoes. Undoing the drawstring at Bashir’s waist, Garak pulled the pants down and let them drop to the floor. He paused, surprised. “What’s this, doctor?” he asked. Bashir’s underwear consisted of a deep purple silk pouch that tapered into a thong passing through his cleft to join an elastic waistband. Holding Bashir’s ass, Garak mouthed his erection through the silk. “Another surprise,” he murmured. “So correct on the outside, and underneath so full of lust. How long have you been ready for me, doctor?” He continued to bite at Bashir’s hardness, slipping his tongue into the pouch at the sides.

“A...long...time,” Bashir panted. “It’s your fault I even agreed to have a drink with Smythe, you know. I’ve been thinking about you all the time. I haven’t wanted you to know.”

“Why not?” Garak pushed his tongue as far into the silk pouch as it could go, to lap at Bashir’s erection.

“I told you. I thought you’d laugh at me.”

“I played my part much too well,” said Garak. “We need to make up for all the time we’ve wasted misleading each other.” He pulled the pouch open for a second to allow Bashir’s cock to straighten. He mouthed what stuck out at the top.

“Oh, Garak, take it all, please! Bashir sighed, closing his eyes. Suddenly the stimulation to his member stopped. He looked down. “Garak!”

Garak was looking up at him with a knowing smile. “Who’s taking orders from whom?” he asked.

Bashir grinned, looking at him through half-closed eyes. “I’m getting tired of these restraints,” he said. “I want to get my hands on you.”

“Now, that is tempting,” said Garak thoughtfully, “but I don’t intend to let you go until I have you trapped another way.” He urged Bashir towards the bed, practically lifting his feet off the floor. Once there, he had Bashir lie over a couple of pillows. “Spread your legs. The view from here is very nice indeed, doctor. How could you think I would turn you down? I suppose I had you too well convinced that I was self-sufficient.” As Garak undressed, he smiled to see Bashir squirm against the sheets.

“Garak, have you lost interest?” Bashir asked with irritation.

“Oh, no, I haven’t.”

Bashir felt his skimpy underwear being removed and then Garak’s naked belly touched his ass while something hard pushed against his opening. “I don’t think I’m ready, Garak,” Bashir said, panicking a little. “You can’t just....”

“I know what I’m doing, doctor,” said Garak soothingly. “That’s just my finger against you. Relax and let it in. That’s right....” He nipped at Bashir’s shoulders and back. His erection pressed against Bashir’s flank.

“Garak,” Bashir said urgently, "let me see you."

Withdrawing his fingers, Garak moved so that Bashir had a full view of his hardness.

“Oh, my god! I can’t possibly take that in. You’ll tear me apart!” Bashir’s eyes were wide.

“You can and you will, dear doctor. You’ll be stretched, but I won’t tear you apart as you so graphically put it. And next time it will be easier.” Garak pushed his fingers into Bashir, working the lubricant around and trying to relax his muscles. He bent down close to Bashir’s ear. “Not that you have a choice, do you, doctor?”

“No. I can’t do anything about it.” Bashir’s eyes were closed and he trembled slightly, but his face looked beatific, transfigured by his expectations.

“Say it. Say what I’m going to do.”

He could feel the heat growing deep inside Bashir. Given the chance to talk it over and argue it out, Bashir might not have gone through with it, Garak realized. But the handcuffs had freed him to enjoy what happened without second thoughts.

“You’re going to fuck me,” Bashir said in a breathy, throaty voice that would have made Garak hard if he hadn’t already been so. “You’re going to fuck me with that enormous cock, and I can’t...stop you.” Bashir’s back was covered with a fine mist of sweat and he panted with anticipation.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Garak corrected. “Right now.”

He started to go in, fighting the urge to push harder against the resistance of Bashir’s muscles, of his fear. For a moment there was no movement, no sound except their labored breath, and then Bashir opened to him all at once, so that with a long sigh he sank all the way inside, wishing he had more to give. Bashir squirmed around him, rotating his hips, trying to accommodate the intruder that filled him.

“Garak, oh, Garak. I can’t, I can’t.... You’re in me. It feels marvelous. God, it hurts, too. Move, please move!” Bashir didn’t know what he was saying. Garak pulled back and then let himself sink once more into Bashir’s delicious heat. Bashir moved up to meet him, raising his ass and spreading his legs as far as he could. He sighed and moaned in ecstasy, beginning sentences and forgetting to finish them, calling out Garak’s name. When the restraint pinged open, he hardly noticed. Garak lay on Bashir’s back and reached under him to grab his cock.

“I’m privileged to be your first lover, doctor,” he said passionately, trying to sound detached. “Now you’re going to need me over and over. You’re going to be obsessed by the thought of my cock in you. You’re going to come to me and beg me for it, day and night. I don’t need the restraint any more....” Garak’s voice broke. His mind could no longer hold a coherent thought. Gradually, his rhythm had grown faster and harder until he was pounding in, working in a lustful frenzy, responding to the doctor’s cries of “More! Faster! Deeper!” by nearly lifting him off the bed with each stroke. He breathed in Bashir’s musky scent, nuzzling in his neck. He was not going to be able to give this up. It was frightening how deeply he had fallen once he had let himself go. “Julian,” he groaned. “Julian, I....” The hand that slid over Bashir’s erection suddenly felt hot and slick. When the contractions began around him he cried out, his voice joining Bashir’s shouts of joy.

When it was over they lay panting, with Garak still crouched over Bashir, not wanting to withdraw. In a few minutes, when he grew softer, he slid out unwillingly and lay next to Bashir, taking him into his arms. Bashir turned to him, putting up a hand to stroke his cheek.

“I had no idea,” he said, grinning into Garak’s face.

“Of what? That you wanted me so much? That it could be so wonderful?” Garak was echoing his own thoughts.

“All of it.” With his messy hair and goofy smile, Bashir looked shamelessly like a man who had been fucked silly. “Whatever you say.”

Garak kissed him. He couldn’t think of anything better to do.

When they parted in the morning, Garak was as confident as he’d ever been that he’d given the good doctor something to think about. Bashir had been so insatiable that now he could hardly walk to his quarters to get his medical kit. Garak had to get it for him and then had the not unpleasant task of using the medilyzer on Bashir’s bruises and general soreness, which they had caused through mutual enthusiasm.

Bashir returned the next night and the next. And then he asked Garak if he would mind acting out again something like the original scenario that had brought them together.

***

Garak felt strange sneaking thought the station carrying the restraint. Though it was small and light and lay flat in his pocket, it seemed to bulge out conspicuously. Julian had given Garak precise instructions on how to go about this. The only thing he hadn’t chosen was the location. Garak knew that although he wasn’t actually committing a crime, he was doing something that would have the appearance of one. He hoped for no Star Fleet interference.

When he reached Quark’s, he saw the doctor standing there at the bar talking to Miles, playing a game of darts. The first thing Garak was supposed to do was to go up to Julian and peremptorily ask him to leave. Apparently that had been part of Julian’s fantasy—having Miles find out they were lovers, having him know that Garak dominated him in bed. Garak was puzzled that Miles knowing or not knowing anything could play a role in the doctor’s fantasy life, but if he wanted things that way, so be it.

He walked up to them slowly, savoring the look of distaste that appeared on O’Brien’s face as he realized that Garak was actually coming up to them.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Garak said graciously. “I trust you are enjoying your game?”

“We’ve just started a new one.” Bashir looked at him with anticipation clearly written on his face. Garak was surprised O’Brien couldn’t see what was happening.

“That’s unfortunate, doctor. I would like you to come with me.” Garak let his voice express authority without being loud.

“Just a minute, Garak. It’s my turn.” Bashir threw a couple of bull’s eyes in quick succession.

“Now, doctor,” Garak said even more quietly, wondering how O’Brien would take it.

“Miles, I have to go,” Bashir said finally.

“Now, wait a minute,” O’Brien began. “You can’t just walk up to us and order Dr. Bashir to leave with you.”

“It’s all right, Miles,” Julian said quietly. He let something show in his face that puzzled the engineer and shut him up for the moment. “I’ll be back later.”

They threaded their way through the crowded bar to the holosuite entrance and beyond, to a sparsely populated area of the bar, where they slipped into the storage area Quark kept that led to the workings of the holosuites. Garak didn’t think that anyone had seen them. He took Bashir roughly by the arm.

“What makes you think you can keep me waiting?” he asked, feigning anger.

“I...uh, well, it was my turn. Thirty seconds didn’t make that much difference.” Julian put a bit of defiance into his words that Garak found highly arousing. “What do you want with me, anyway, Garak?”

Garak smiled as dangerously as he knew how. “I have a surprise for you, doctor. Something you’ve been wanting.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Bashir tried to pull his arm away.

“Yes, you do,” Garak hissed into his ear. Pulling Bashir’s wrists behind his back, he guided him into a small passageway that led under the holosuites. First they stooped and soon they had to crawl. All the way, Bashir kept protesting and trying to stop.

“Where are we going, Garak? There’s nothing under here that interests me.”

“Keep going, doctor, or I’ll drag you there.” Bashir kept going.

Finally they reached a small round work area in the middle of the four holosuites where they could stand. Bashir brushed dust off his shirt and pants. “Now you’ve got me here. What do you want, Garak?”

Garak took him around the waist and backed him into the wall. “I’m tired of your calling me ‘Garak.’ From now on I’m going to call you ‘Julian’ and you’re going to call me ‘Mr. Garak.’”

“That’s the most absurd idea I ever—”

Garak stopped his mouth with a deep kiss. He could feel that Bashir was aroused, but in keeping with the game was trying to resist by pushing Garak away. Garak took one of Julian’s wrists in each hand and, raising them over his head, locked them together around a support beam he had checked out earlier. Julian shook his mouth free.

“Garak, what’s the idea? I’ll call Security. Without your communicator?” Garak taunted, plucking it off his chest. “Face it, Julian, you’re in my control for the moment.”

“What do you want, Garak?”

If Garak hadn’t known better he almost would have thought Bashir was frightened, but when he looked into the brown eyes, he saw no fear, just a dreamy languor that showed the depth of his passion.

“What do you want—Mr. Garak,” Garak corrected him. He opened Julian’s shirt and undid his pants, letting them drop to the floor. Inside his underwear Julian was hard. Running his hands down Julian’s chest to his groin, Garak took Julian’s balls into one hand and toyed with them.

Julian swallowed hard. “I meant no disrespect. What do you want with me, Mr. Garak?”

“That’s better,” Garak said, laughing. “You’ll feel what I want in a moment, but meanwhile I’ll tell you. I want to fuck you.”

“No, not that.” Julian’s face was flushed and his mouth half smiling, his eyes excited.

Garak said firmly, “I’m going to make you like it. Before I’m done, you’ll be begging me for it.”

“No, please, I don’t want it,” Julian begged, rubbing himself up against Garak’s hand.

Garak laughed as he turned him around to face the wall. “You’re such a slut, you can’t help wanting it,” he said.

Much of this dialogue had been prearranged by Julian. Pulling down Julian’s underwear, Garak straddled his legs and poised himself at his opening. Garak was fully dressed with only his cock exposed. He would have preferred to feel his naked skin against Julian’s but this was how the doctor wanted it. By prearrangement, Julian would be ready for him, and he could feel the lubrication under his fingers. He slid inside, holding Julian around the waist and feeling his hardness as he held Julian against him, filling him completely.

“Oh, no, Garak,” Julian moaned, squirming, “don‘t. Oh, don’t.” He trailed off into a groan of pleasure as Garak began to move—pulling out and pushing in hard to remain for a moment, then repeating the movement.

“What if I stopped right now and left you shackled here unsatisfied with your pants around your ankles?” Garak asked. “I think I’ll do that.” He withdrew suddenly, but Julian pushed back against him. “No, I want it,” he whispered. “Come back inside me.”

“How are you supposed to ask me?” Garak growled warningly.

“Fuck me, please, Mr. Garak.” Although Garak found this a bit silly when they had talked about it beforehand, now that his blood was up he found it incredibly arousing to be begged so respectfully. “Say it again.”

“Fuck me. Please fuck me, Mr. Garak.”

Garak complied energetically, and a second later he knew that someone was watching them. Turning his head to one side, he saw Miles O’Brien standing in a frozen crouch halfway out of the low passage. Garak smiled coldly and turned back to what he was doing. O’Brien’s face was a study in shock and horror, as if he had seen someone dismembered before his eyes. Garak didn’t really care what he thought, but he worried that Star Fleet Security would get involved.

“Julian, we have company,” Garak murmured, not sure how the doctor would take it.

“What?” Julian asked breathlessly, throwing his head back on Garak’s shoulder as Garak pumped his erection hard.

“O’Brien is watching us,” Garak explained.

Julian opened his eyes. “Oh, god, Miles, go away,” he said with an effort.

“Get away from him, Garak,” O’Brien said dangerously. It was clear now that he was carrying a large spanner.

“Julian, he doesn’t understand,” Garak said, slowing his movements and preparing to defend himself.

“Don’t stop, Garak!” Bashir said desperately. “Damn it, Miles, it’s a game, the handcuffs and everything. It was my idea. Get out of here, will you?”

“You heard the doctor,” Garak said threateningly.

Uncertainly, O’Brien retreated and crawled back partway through the tunnel. He couldn’t help turning once more to look at the pair behind the holosuites. Garak’s mouth was on Julian’s neck now, and Julian had relaxed so completely that Garak’s arms were holding most of his weight.

“Deeper,” Julian moaned desperately. “Can’t you go in deeper?”

 _Christ,_ thought Miles, _what am I doing watching this?_ He crawled out quickly and met Quark, who was waiting on the other side.

“Did you fix it?” Quark asked anxiously.

O’Brien glared at him. “That’s the last time I go in there when I’m off duty. It’s an intermittent problem, and I predict it will right itself in half an hour.”

“How do you know?” Quark asked, confused.

“I just know, all right?” O’Brien said crossly. He went back to the bar and ordered a Romulan ale.

Somewhere around half an hour later, Julian Bashir emerged from the direction of the holosuites looking mussed but highly contented. He found O’Brien at the bar and slipped into the next seat.

“My, that was embarrassing,” he said brightly.

“You’re not kidding,” said O’Brien morosely without looking at him.

“What were you doing in there, anyway?” Bashir asked. “Just out of curiosity.”

“Quark asked me to look at Holosuite 1. It was having some kind of intermittent power problem.” O’Brien spoke directly to his glass.

“Oh, no.” Bashir winced. “As if someone were pulling on the main power conduit?”

“You guessed it.”

“Damn. I guess that wasn’t such a great spot.” Bashir ordered a synthale from one of the servers.

O’Brien turned to face him. “Is that all you can say?”

Bashir shrugged. “I guess we won’t go there again for our little bondage games.”

“What’s this all about? What does it mean? Not only are you letting that Cardassian bastard... do... uh... do what he was doing to you, but you _asked_ him to string you up in handcuffs nearly in public where anyone could stumble across you? Don’t you have any shame?”

Bashir looked at him steadily. “What exactly am I supposed to be ashamed of, Miles? Oh, I know it must have looked pretty silly, but, damn it, haven’t you ever been in love?”

“In love?” Miles asked stupidly.

“Yes, in love. You know that feeling you have that you can never have enough of the other person, that you wouldn’t care if everyone in the world knew about it, that you could go at it all day and all night without....”

“Wait a minute,” Miles cut him off. “You’re telling me you’re in love with Garak, and that the way you like doing it is letting him handcuff you and pretend to rape you?”

Bashir shrugged. “Not always. It was just a little game, and if you must know, yes, I feel as if I’m in love with him.”

Miles took a long swig of his blue drink. “I guess there’s nothing else to say, is there?”

“I guess not.” Bashir got up from the bar, leaving half of his synthale.

“Where are you going?”

“To meet Garak. Will I still see you in the holosuite tomorrow night? We were going to fight Io Jima, remember?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

O’Brien watched Bashir recede through the ale-induced fog in his brain, wondering what he’d think about this tomorrow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, please return to the archive and leave kudos. Thanks for reading!


End file.
